


Leather Boots and Cheetah Hoodies

by becauseISaidSo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, Trains, aged up AU, could be gen if not for language, meeting AU, otabek finds in endearing, otayuri - Freeform, yuri is an emotionally repressed shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 13:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseISaidSo/pseuds/becauseISaidSo
Summary: Riding the train on Yuri's daily commute wasn't supposed to be exciting, it was not supposed to give him feelings that he didn't know how to process, it was not supposed to be the highlight of his day.  Unless of course that man with the undercut and the big leather boots was taking the train too...





	Leather Boots and Cheetah Hoodies

Yuri grumbled to himself, typing out his latest bitch rant to the group chat, the train jostling him and causing one too many typos for his already frustrated brain to handle. He was on his usual train, finally going home after another day of dealing with Lilia and her myriad of clients. He put his phone down, grumpy and pissed and with an overwhelming desire to kick something. He looked around the train, the woman across the aisle from him was asleep, her bag slowly slipping from her lap as the train shook back and forth. 

He watched the woman for a while, breathing like his grandfather had taught him through his nose, letting his mind wander away from work and towards things that he actually enjoyed - ice cream maybe? The train stopped, let off some passengers and moved on again, the woman kept sleeping, Yuri was impressed, her bag was almost off her lap, her heeled feet were at an angle, twisting her ankle slightly, her mouth open, surely picking up some of the germs undoubtedly clinging to the window she was leaning against. She couldn't be comfortable. 

“Yes, Dmitry, we have the paperwork,” the loud obnoxious voice of a business man broke through the stillness of the train, making the woman come awake with a jump, her bag landing on the floor with a soft  _ thump _ . Yuri looked behind him, glowering. The man - chattering away at a volume much more appropriate at a rock concert - had just entered the car and was in the process of putting his bag on the rack above the seats - a quest easier said than done as he was one handed and swaying dangerously with the movement of the train. Most everyone was turned in their seats, glaring at him. All, except for one man. 

He was facing Yuri, in the aisle seat only a few rows away, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet clad in large leather boots that seemed more comfortable than menacing. His undercut sported some design that Yuri couldn't quite make out and his mouth was turned down in concentration. There was a laptop on his lap, the chord of his headphones trailing almost to the ground. Yuri watched him for a moment, his mouth slightly open. 

The other man was  _ beautiful.  _ Not classically handsome, his jaw was too angular and his eyebrows too thick, but he was sturdy and had a surly expression on his face and- he looked up, feeling Yuri’s eyes on him. Yuri blinked and made a face, nodding towards the businessman, now finally seated but still chatting loudly. The man cocked an eyebrow and turned to look, pulling one side of his headphones back. His face twisted as he heard the loud nasally voice still ranting about something or other. He turned back to Yuri, purposefully replacing the ear of his headphones and raising his eyebrows pointedly. Yuri grinned, rolling his eyes and turned back around. 

The woman had fallen asleep again, her bag tucked firmly between her knees. Yuri didn't watch her this time though. His mind was tuning out the stupid loud man and focusing on the small smile the brunette man had given him, the curve of his neck when he's looked behind him, the gentle drum his fingers made on the keyboard. 

Yuri blinked, disgusted with himself. Beautiful people were beautiful but that didn't mean he should go about day dreaming about them? He picked up his phone, maybe he could finish drafting this email before his stop arrived. 

* * *

Otabek walked down the center of the car, it wasn't that there weren't seats, but there was something not quite right with these. He was on the late train again, his company’s two week cycle was becoming more and more burdensome, maybe he was just delaying the moment he would have to open his laptop again and keep working. He entered the next car as the train started moving again. This car was even less crowded than the first but it felt nicer, homeyer.

He took a seat at the front, facing backwards and glancing down the aisle. He could see the tops of the heads of the few passengers, most were sleeping or on their phones, none were looking at him. He settled down in the aisle seat, taking his laptop out of his bag and opening it wearily. He hadn't even bothered shutting down, the cursor pulsed at him, the colors swimming before his eyes. He blinked hard, plugging in his headphones, took a deep breath and got back to work. 

The train had stopped maybe four times and Otabek was thoroughly absorbed in the code in front of him, the old playlist from University playing on loop and allowing his mind to shut everything else out. Everything except the feeling of eyes on him. He slowly drew his attention away from the code and looked up. 

A woman was making her way done the train, two children in toe, she was snapping at the small boy, her face stern. She must have been making some noise and Otabek became grateful - not for the first time - of the high quality noise canceling capability of his headphones. Most of the passengers were looking at her as she made her way up the train, except for one man. Otabek did a double take. He had seen him before, in a similar scenario. The man was blond and slighter than a twig, his face was pinched and the lining of his hoodie was splashed with cheetah print that clashed with his hair in an almost endearing way; his eyes were a bluish green and they were looking right at him.

Otabek blinked, composing himself and raised his eyebrows. The blond smirked, rolling his eyes at the woman. Otabek shrugged in response and tapped his headphones with a finger, no disturbance on his end. The blond nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing at the headphones. He made a final face at the woman that looked so forced and pinched it made Otabek smile slightly and the blond turned back to his phone. 

Otabek did not look immediately away, the blond was facing him - also in an aisle seat. He was wearing a loose tank top under the hoodie that clearly showed his collar bones and his pants… they looked like womens leggings. He looked… good. 

Slowly, Otabek returned to his work, but his mind was no longer focused as it should have been. He found himself glancing up every few minutes to look at the blond. He was intriguing. Their first encounter some two weeks previously had stuck with him, but now he had the opportunity to watch him. He fidgeted a lot, never able to sit still, and he spent an awful amount of time scowling at his phone.  In fact he seemed to scowl at everything, the man from last time, the woman and her kids, the seat in front of him, even his shoes if he was so inclined.  The scowl never seemed complete, however, it was almost as if he wanted to be scowling and was looking for things to be angry at.  He was young, younger than Otabek, though by how much he could not be sure.  He was firmly built, surprising for how thin he was, and he stretched out across the seats in some contortion Otabek was sure he had never been able to achieve in his entire life, let alone now.  

The blond got off one stop before his own, turning away from Otabek to exit the other side of the car. His pants  _ were _ women’s leggings, and they did exactly what he had expected them to do to his ass.  Otabek looked away quickly, slightly disappointed at the blond’s departure and realized that taking the late train had not been the chore he had thought it would be.

* * *

Yuri looked up as the new passengers filed into the car, he was searching for the man with the undercut, the dark haired surely beauty. Not for any particular  _ reason _ , obviously, Yuri was a self proclaimed misanthrope and wasn't about to change that for a man with heavy eyebrows and a smirk. No, it was that the man intrigued him somehow. He's seen him twice now, but he'd seen many people on this train many more times than that. He wanted-

But there he was, filing in behind a heavy set man who looked far too drunk for a Tuesday night. He was carrying his bag, his headphones around his neck, Yuri twiddled the chord of his own headphones (a recent purchase). He sat down at the seat by the door, the same one he'd been seated at last time. Yuri watched him as he took out his laptop, set it on his lap and opened it. He glanced at Yuri as he plugged his headphones in and gave a small nod in his direction. Yuri felt himself blush slightly though he didn't know why, what was this man to him?

He turned back to his phone quickly, back to drafting an email to one of Lilia’s clients who was very upset that her daughter could not partake in the company’s winter recital. He finished the email quickly, short, blunt, and with the minimal handholding Lilia had beaten into him and checked the rest of his phone. Viktor and Yuuri were insisting he come to their place for dinner that weekend - he ignored this plea, opening Instagram and scrolling through the dancers site.  He did not like being the nominal head of social media, he was shit at taking pictures and even worse at captioning them, but he liked a few photos out of necessity before moving on.

He had quite forgotten the man until he glanced up again, the train’s jostling making using his phone difficult for the moment.  The man was looking at him, his face stoney, not cold, just still, expressionless, he did not look away when he saw Yuri notice him.  Yuri narrowed his eyes at him. What did he want?  The man raised his eyebrows, giving Yuri an almost appraising look. Yuri cocked his head, still squinting at the man. What? The man gave a small shrug and looked back at his computer. Yuri turned back to his phone.

Chris was doing something obscene, per usual. Yuuri was now resorting to bribing him to get him to come over that weekend.  He really should go… he hadn’t seen them in months and Viktor had been the closest thing he had had to a father besides grandpa…

He looked up, the unmistakable feeling of being watched making it too difficult to concentrate.  The man was looking at him again, and once again did not look away when they made eye contact.  Yuri twisted his face into a grimace,  _ What?! _ He mouthed across the train, over exaggerating his features so it was clear Exactly How He Felt. The man raised his eyebrows again but slowly brought one hand up to his headphones, tapping one of the ears.  Yuri raised his own hand, almost automatically, to touch the ear of his own pair.  He realized that the pairs were the same, the same brand at least, though Yuri’s were white and the other man’s were black.  He furrowed his brow questioningly at the man who gave a small thumbs up.  _ Good choice _ was the clear meaning.  Yuri blinked, his face going blank for a second.  The other man smirked slightly and turned back to his computer.  Yuri returned to his phone, determined not to look up again until it was his stop.

This proved to be easier said than done as the desire to look up at the dark haired man kept growing as the train moved on, closer and closer to home, but he shuffled in his seat and kept his head down, typing out response after response to Yuuri and Viktor - yes he would be coming over that weekend - no not for the whole day - yes just for lunch - fine dinner if they insisted - no he did not want to go on a hike with the dog - no he did not want to stay for dessert…

He gathered his things quickly when his stop came, still not looking up, determined not to meet the man's eyes for a  _ third  _ time.  He turned quickly towards the other end of the car, his back to the man, he was certain he could feel eyes on his back, certain that the other man was watching him.  At the door he glanced back - despite his better judgement.  The man was thoroughly absorbed in his computer, his head down, his fingers typing quickly and surely.  Yuri blushed slightly and headed out the door.

* * *

Fourth time on the late train in a month.  It was certainly becoming less of a chore, and yes it did have a lot to do with the fidgety, pinched blond he kept running into.  Otabek did not even try to hide if from himself that he was looking for the blond as he walked up and down the train cars.  He liked him, that was all, he liked the way his guard went up at the slightest provocation, and then came crashing down again when confronted with something surprising.  His blush was infectious and Otabek couldn’t help but imagine what that thin, strong body would feel like with his arms wrapped around it…

Otabek shook himself.  The man could be taken or straight or underage or uninterested, he shouldn’t wind himself up when all they were going to do was sneer at each other. 

He found him - finally - and casually settled in the seat he’d starting thinking of as ‘his’ by the door facing the rest of the car.  The blond was sitting closer to him this time, only a few rows away and he glanced up as Otabek drew his laptop out of his bag.  Otabek met his eyes and gave a small nod in greeting, turning quickly back to the screen, relishing in the startled sneer and blush that had rushed onto the blond's face at Otabek’s acknowledgement.

The feeling of being watched was quickly becoming enjoyable (almost like he was performing) and Otabek settled nicely into his seat, his legs relishing in the extra legroom this particular seat gave him.  He knew the blond was watching him, knew he was stealing glances.  He was close enough that he could hear the soft tapping of the blond on his phone, his typing fevered and frantic, much like the rest of his movements.  He glanced up whenever the typing picked up in volume.  The blond was usually bent over his phone, that scowl plastered on his face as if it was it’s home. Sometimes one leg was up, bent in some strange angle, sometimes his was sitting cross legged, leaning forward, his forehead resting on the back of the seat in front of him, one time he had draped both legs over the armrest into the aisle making it almost impossible for people to walk by.

He was like this when the train stopped, passengers filing on and off. His headphones (Otabek couldn’t help getting a surge of pleasure at them being the same as his) were on and he was completely absorbed (for once?) in whatever it was he was typing.  A woman was trying to get by, her feeble ‘excuse me’s not penetrating the (very high quality) headphones.  Otabek stretched, his leg just close enough to reach, and kicked the blond’s shoe.  He gave a startled jump, his legs springing into the seat and making him look like a grasshopper.  Otabek snorted through his nose as the woman passed by throwing a dirty look at the blond who stuck his tongue out at her retreating back, then his eyes met Otabek’s. 

The blond flushed, scrambling around on the seat, tucking his legs under him in a position that could not have been comfortable to anyone. Otabek raised his eyebrows, the blond huffed and looked back at his phone, though he did not start typing again, it was as if the blond needed Otabek to look away before he could resume what he was doing. 

Otabek blinked slowly at him, appraising him, and turned back to the code. The tapping resumed after a little while and Otabek found something in him settle. It was as if he was being lulled by the noise of the other man. 

He kept his head down, focusing on his work, still glancing every so often at the blond, caring less and less if he saw him looking. It was almost like they knew each other now. Something had passed between them and they were no longer strangers. 

The train stopped again, the stop right before his own, the blonds stop, if he remembered correctly. He looked up, the blond was standing in the aisle, his bag over his shoulder, he'd already pulled the hood of is sweatshirt over his head and the cheetah print went no better with his hair than it had previously. He was frowning at Otabek with a question in his eyes. Otabek cocked his head. The blond tapped his headphones, his face sneering.  _ Not good enough for you _ ? Otabek felt a rush of… something… but slowly pulled his headphones from his bag, displaying them to the blond. He nodded, one eyebrow cocked, then shrugged and left the train. 

Otabek put his headphones back in the bag. He hadn't realized he hadn't been wearing them. He usually wore them whenever he was coding, the music from uni helped him to concentrate, alleviating all distractions. He frowned at his code, not really seeing it, why had he not worn them today? He wasn't sure, but he had a nagging suspicion that it had something to do with the blond and his stupid cheetah print hoodie.

* * *

It had been three weeks - _ three weeks!  _ \- since he'd last seen the brunette. He wasn't looking everyday now, at least not actively, but he did scan the platform of his stop, looking for the undercut, the headphones he only sometimes wore draped around his neck. He spotted him quickly this time, though, and something rose inside him like an ugly monster, he pushed the feeling aside, digesting emotions was  _ not  _ what he wanted right now. The man was getting into a car a few down from Yuri’s own. He moved back from the window, hunching down in his seat, determinedly staring at his phone, though not really seeing it. The overwhelming desire to look up, to see if he was entering Yuri’s car… it was NOT something he wanted to fall prey to.

The train was busier than usual - being a Friday after all - and Yuri did not want some stupid person coming along and asking for the window seat. He stretched one leg into the offending seat, not taking his eyes off his phone, hoping the meaning was plain. He tried not to think what he was do if He asked for the seat but thankfully the shuffle of people moved past him and he relaxed slightly. 

He glanced around, telling himself firmly that he was  _ not  _ looking for the brunette. There was no sign of the undercut - easily visible around the sea of seats - and he slumped in his chair, a little dejected, he was not in his car this time… that was fine… wasn't it? Simply fine. 

The door of the car opened and closed as the train moved onward and Yuri kept his eyes on his phone, unwilling to face the excitement and disappointment as he inevitably realized the latest passenger was not the brunette man. Why was he getting so worked up? This was stupid. Many things could make him angry, he was used to his own short temper, practiced breathing exercises and learned to simply avoid people who pushed his buttons. But this wasn't anger, this was… something else. He grumbled at his phone trying to work out what it was but all he could come up with was a lack of disregard. He realized with a jolt that he _respected_ the brunette though could not think of anything the man had done to earn it, certainly kicking his shoe had not done it. He felt calmer though, having put a name to it - this new fangled emotion. 

He leaned back, tucking his feet under him as he scrolled through the studio’s Instagram trying to figure out how to “go viral” - something Lilia was very concerned about. 

“That can't be comfortable,” said a voice making Yuri jump and drop his phone. He looked around. The man was next to him.  _ The brunette man with the undercut and the black headphones and the laptop was across the aisle in the seat next to him!  _ He blinked, attempted to maintain composure and pulled a face at the other man. 

“What?” He snapped, bristling, all defenses on high alert, he did not even retrieve his phone from where it had fallen on the floor. He tried not to think about the man's low voice, the slight gravel in the back of his throat, the way he was smiling bemusedly at Yuri under those eyebrows that had no business being that striking. 

The man surveyed Yuri, one eyebrow raised in an expression of mild amusement. He nodded at Yuri’s legs, still tucked under him, “I said that can't be comfortable,” he repeated with maddening patience. 

Yuri bent, picking up his phone, and narrowed his eyes at the other man, “well it's a good thing you’re not doing it,” snapped, settling deeper into the seat and turning pointedly away. 

The other man snorted softly and Yuri felt rather than saw him plugin the headphones. That was  _ fine _ . He didn't want to talk to the man anyway. What kind of person wants to talk to strangers on their daily commute?

He frowned to himself and shifted slightly so the man wasn’t completely out of sight, just visible in the corner of his eye. He was typing away, though Yuri realized it was with a different sort of rhythm than he usually employed. He tried not to think about the fact that he knew the other man’s usual typing rhythm and what that meant. It meant nothing. Obviously. But it was a different pattern and it was… distracting.

Yuri tried to focus on Instagram, on maintaining his Social Media Expert™ title, but the man’s very presence was making his brain foggy. What was wrong with him? It was like he was some stupid child and there was a fun new toy on the playground that the teachers wouldn’t let him play with. It was completely stupid but the other man was consuming his mind. He shifted again, curling into the other seat, his back against the window, his feet in the aisle seat, facing the man.  Now he could see him properly, a quick glance up from his phone to keep an eye on him.  His mind cleared slightly, but it was still buzzing.  Yuri shifted trying to  _ focus _ , he had a  _ job _ and he needed to  _ perform _ .  He stared at his phone, not really seeing it, the man’s profile easily visible if he just lifted his eyes slightly, he was leaning back, as usual, his legs stretching into the aisle, his laptop balanced almost precariously on his sloping legs.  He was smiling at his computer, a sight so strange that it made Yuri stare (not that he needed much of an excuse). As he watched, the man chuckled slightly to himself, adjusting the computer and still typing in that odd rhythm.

“What’s so funny?”

The words were out of Yuri’s mouth before he realized it.  He froze, staring at the man, but the other man’s headphones were on, he did not look around, he had not heard him, Yuri knew the insane quality of those headphones and thanked the universe for the fact.  What was wrong with him? Why was he looking for the brunette in the first place?  It was so stupid!  Yes, he was pretty, yes he was intriguing, but he was a  _ stranger _ on a  _ train.   _ Horror movies and mystery novels had been written about meeting strangers on trains, and no one who ever talked to the strangers ever wound up happy - most wound up dead.  Yuri did not look away from the man, even as his brain was screaming at him, pleading with him, trying to slap him around and make him see sense, he still looked at him, studying him.  

His undercut was recently re-shaved, no more pattern in it as it had been when he had first seen him, the flop on top was falling into his eyes in a way that made Yuri want to know what it would look like flayed out against a pillow.  He swallowed hard as that particular image flashed across his imagination.  He was being  _ stupid _ .  With tremendous effort he tore his eyes from the man before he could start inspecting the muscles in his neck and the way his shirt clung to his- 

No, nope, no.

Yuri closed his eyes, squeezing them, trying to think about something - anything else.  

“Here look at this,”

Yuri’s eyes flew open.  The man had removed his headphones, draping them around his neck so they were nestled in his collarbones.  He had leaned across the aisle to Yuri and was holding out his laptop.  Yuri stared at him.  The man raised his eyebrows nodding at the computer.  Slowly Yuri leaned forward, his legs going instinctively under him and took hold of one side of the computer.

On the screen was a cat video.   _ A fucking cat video _ .  Yuri blinked hard trying to figure out what the hell was happening, but the man just smiled and pressed play.  Yuri watched as the cat climbed into smaller and smaller containers, fitting into the weirdest things.  Finally the cat was found to be curled up perfectly inside of a pointe shoe (a rather large pointe shoe but still). The man grinned at him as the video ended and Yuri looked up at him, confused.

“It’s funny, no?”

Yuri narrowed his eyes and shrugged, “I don’t know, I don’t really like cats,” 

The man looked taken aback and surveyed him, “Okay,” he said slowly, “But I don’t think I can find a video of a dog trying to fit inside of a dance shoe,”

“Pointe shoe,”

“What?”

“That’s the kind of shoe - it’s a pointe shoe. Dance shoes are something completely different, it’s not even a technical term but it usually refers to hard jazz shoes which are nothing like pointe shoes,”

The man blinked and Yuri seemed to come back to his senses.  He scooted back, letting go of the laptop and shuffling back towards the window.  The man was looking at him, his brow furrowed as though not knowing how to take his words. Yuri shifted nervously, playing with his phone but not looking at it, the man wouldn’t look away.  The man slowly put the laptop back on his own lap, pulled the headphones back on over his ears and finally looked away, back to the screen.

Yuri sat there, his heart pounding.  What the fuck had just happened?  Real live human interaction with a beautiful dark specimen about a fucking  _ cat video _ and  _ pointe shoes! _  This was insane. This was not how real life worked.  He turned back to his phone but was even more distracted than he had been before, the words swimming before his eyes, his mind racing, not knowing what to do but knowing he had to do  _ something _ .

Without fully thinking it through, he leaned forward.  The man saw his movement and removed his headphones - good, now Yuri wouldn’t have to tap him on the shoulder or something equally as mortifying.  The man looked at him, questioningly, waiting.

“Why are you looking at cat videos? You’re usually doing something else, why is today any different?”

Yuri tried not to think too hard about the fact that he had just  _ admitted, out loud,  _ that he noticed what the other man was doing ‘usually’ but he met the man’s eyes.  He needed the answer.  The unfamiliar pattern of his typing was driving Yuri insane, it was much more distracting than the dark eyebrows that seemed to carry all of the other man’s emotion, if he would just go back to his usual rhythm then Yuri could relax, could carry on, it would be  _ fine _ .

The man blinked at him, slightly startled, then typed something on his computer, clicked a few buttons and turned the screen to face Yuri.  It was dark and covered in multicolored text at various indentations.  He leaned forward, it was code.  He looked at the man questioningly.

“This is what I’m ‘usually doing’,” he said, turning the laptop away and exiting out of the offending application with a look of distaste.  “But seeing as I had to work late on a Friday, I wasn’t about to keep doing work on my commute home,”

Yuri frowned considering, then nodded slowly, “Okay,” He leaned back, embarrassed.  The man wasn’t being mean or anything, but Yuri felt a wave of resentment towards him for having so much power over his own emotions.  The man had never done anything and here Yuri was not just finding him attractive, but  _ respecting _ him and actually,  _ caring what he thought _ .  He shifted, his legs folding under him once more, not quite meeting the man’s eyes, “And- and the cat video?” he cocked an eyebrow.

The man grinned and shrugged, “You dance,” he said simply, “Thought you might like the last one,”

Yuri bristled, his eyes flying up to meet the other man’s, “Excuse me!?”

The man looked confused, “Don’t you dance?”

“Yes I dance!” he snapped, almost angrily, “But how did you- I mean how could- How the hell did you  _ know _ ?!” 

He realized too late that his voice was raised and he quickly slumped back in his seat, looking around out of the corners of his eyes to see if anyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at him, he did not want to be the center of attention - at least not  _ now _ .

The man smiled, “Your bag has the name of a dance company on it, you’re always wearing clothes you can move easily in, and you’re more flexible than a pipe cleaner, it was a good guess,”

Yuri pushed away the unfair comparison to a child’s craft project and gave a noncommittal grunt, fiddling with his phone. The man had noticed these things about him, had cataloged him, had spent time analyzing him.  He should have found this weird, creepy, stalkerish even, but he didn’t.  He found it… comforting.  As if they now shared something, as if they were no longer just two strangers on a train, but they were strangers on a train together.  He grumbled at the thought, settling back against the window, not looking at the man, not looking at his phone, just thinking.  

The man turned back to his computer, pulling his headphones up around his ears again and stretching out his legs into the aisle.  

Yuri did his best to ignore the man for the rest of the train ride, his mind whirring, unable to focus on much for long.  He shot off a few texts to Lilia about that weekend’s practice and begrudgingly liked a few pictures of Makkachin on Viktor’s Instagram.  When his stop arrived, he gathered his bag, noting the dance company’s logo on the front and glanced at the man.  

He looked up as Yuri stood, giving him a nod of farewell.  Yuri returned it cautiously and left the train, trying not to think about the deep brown eyes that he felt on his back as he walked away. 

* * *

Otabek was tired and grumpy and done with all of this shit.  The train wasn’t nearly as crowded as it had been the last time he’d taken it, but he still seated himself across the aisle from the blond as if it was the most normal thing in the world.  Maybe the funny antics of the younger man would cheer him up.  The blond looked up as he sat down, his face the sarcastic pinched-ness he was now used to.

He nodded to Otabek, “Hey,”

“Hey,” he pulled out his laptop, not looking too long at the blond who he would have bet his entire life savings was doing his best not to look too long at  _ him. _  He smiled to himself.  He liked the idea of the blond doing his best not to look at him.  He figured the younger man needed someone who wrong footed him once in awhile, and Otabek was happy to oblige.

He settled into the seat and began to get back to work.  He had been at it for less than two minutes when the blond spoke.

“You’re working again,” 

Otabek looked up.  He was cross legged, sitting sideways in the seat, facing Otabek, a look of concern on his face.  Otabek looked at him, then at his laptop, then back at the man, “Yes,” he said simply, a question in his voice, “How did you-”

“You type differently when you’re working,”

It was a statement of such confidence that it startled Otabek.  He swallowed, not knowing exactly how to respond.  He looked at the code, then back at the man who was still frowning at him.  He grunted in lieu of actually responding.

“Why’re you working?”

The blond was obviously determined to have a conversation.  The part of him that actually valued getting paid found this annoying, but it was easily drowned out by the much larger part of him that wanted nothing but to talk to the blond until his stop came.  Otabek swallowed, finished the train of thought in the code and looked up at the blond with a resignation, “We have a deadline on Friday that we have to meet and we’re nowhere near meeting it so, here I am,” he waved vaguely at the computer screen.

The blond frowned, the wrinkle between his brows growing more prominent.  “Are you at least getting paid?”

Otabek snorted, “No more than I usually get paid,” he said, idly tapping his fingers on the keyboard.

“Do you enjoy it?”

“What?”

“Do you enjoy what you do?”

Well wasn’t this just the perfect little bitch of a blond?  He frowned and looked back at his computer screen, considering.  The blond was poised, waiting for an answer.  Otabek slowly gathered the chord of his headphones and plugged them into his computer.  He saw the blond deflate slightly at that, watching him.  Otabek pulled the headphones over his ears, the playlist from uni already playing, and settled in.  He did not need to entertain the younger man, he did not need to play in to whatever it is he wanted from him.  He was stupid, childish, arrogant and angry and Otabek owed him nothing. 

He dived in, forcing his mind to ignore the figgity man across the aisle, focusing on the task at hand, at the code, the program, at this week’s crisis. 

He did actually become absorbed, though he hadn’t expected it. He did glance around once, but the blond was looking at his phone, no scowl on his face, but a neutral expression, as if he was too focused to perform. 

On the stop before the blond’s Otabek had figured out the latest problem and was in the process of testing the final thing, making sure his fix _actually fixed_ _it_ this time.  He looked over at the blond as the test ran, he was staring out the window.  Otabek felt bad for having pointedly ignored him, which was stupid, he was just a cute blond dancer who Otabek saw sometimes on the train. 

He looked around, feeling Otabek’s eyes on him.  He raised his eyebrows, the scowl sliding back onto his face. Otabek tongued his cheek apologetically, grinning slightly at him.  The blond rolled his eyes, shrugging.  Otabek narrowed his eyes, questioningly. What? The blond shrugged again. None of my business. Otabek took his headphones off, the blond watching him.

“What?” 

He had not meant to snap, but there it was.  The blond sneered at him, “Nothing.”

“Bull shit,”

“It’s your life, man,”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Otabek was starting to get annoyed.  Who did this blond think he was?  What did he know? Nothing! He knew absolutely nothing about Otabek’s life.

“Just that if I had worked late 6 nights in two months I’d be looking for a new job,” 

Otabek blinked, startled.  The man was serious.  He wasn’t sarcastically accusing him or bristling with indignation, he was simply stating fact.  This surprised him, he was used to the extravagant nature of the other man. Otabek turned back to the test, it had passed and he could push the code to the rest of the team and move on to the next crisis.  

The blond left at his stop, giving no sign of farewell, no acknowledgement and Otabek sat there thinking.  He had point.  He had stopped being too annoyed by the late nights because he had found the blond, but he hadn’t just worked late 6 times in 2 months, he was working early too, and weekends when he had to.  He frowned at his computer, not really seeing what was in front of him.  He had thought the extra time to be temporary, just what was needed in the craziness of deadlines set by people who didn’t have to actually do the work.  But was that what he wanted?  It wasn’t that he was particularly attached to the software.  His team was good, though none of them were the type to grab a beer after work.  He ran through the list in his head, filing all the different aspects of his job under either pro or con.  He was still thinking when he got off at his own stop and as he rode home he realized that there were certainly many more cons than pros in that particular list.

* * *

It had been two months since he had last seen the brunette.  Yuri hadn’t forgotten about him, though.  He kept cropping up in conversation -  _ A friend of mine has an undercut and it looks really good on him _ \- and intruding on Yuri’s thoughts.  He didn’t like how they had ended their last encounter, though he was proud of himself for standing his ground and actually telling the man what he thought.  He hadn’t realized that the man had been working until the day he’d shown him the cat videos.  How much extra time was that?

It wasn’t as if Yuri didn’t put in his own extra time, but at least he was able to make up his time else where, and Lilia was very fair with her pay.  He scribbled a note on the pad in front of him to call back the one daughter’s mother about the tuition for the spring and stretched back in his chair.

The office was small but at least it had a window.  Lilia had complained endlessly about the office being the room to face the street -  _ But how will we show off our dancers if people can not SEE them!  _ She had screamed at the architect, but the wall dividing office from studio was a supporting wall and could not be moved.  She had huffed but relented and Yuri had gotten the best seat in the house.  He looked out the window as he stood, stretching, preparing for the class he would need to teach in the next ten minutes.  The twins who were the current bane of his existence were headed down the street, their father hurrying along behind them, calling to them to slow down and wait for him - this of course only made them run faster - and he huffed chasing after them.  Yuri grinned.  Even if he didn’t like the twins, he liked their father even less and seeing him admit that kind of excursion clearly against his will was very satisfying to watch.  There came a  _ whirr _ from out of sight and all three of them stopped running, the heads turning in unison to look at something Yuri could not see.  He twisted around trying to look and saw a motorcycle humming down the road towards them, it past the studio, the twins, and their father and turned the corner, heading out of sight.

It was odd, Yuri had never seen a motorcycle in this district before, most vehicles were minivans and children's bicycles.  He pushed the thought of the motorcycle out of his mind as the twins entered the studio.  He could hear them chattering on the other side of the wall and considered poking his head out and reminding them to take their shoes off before stepping on the dance floor, but decided against it, it was much more trouble than it was worth. 

He kept stretching, trying to mentally prepare himself. The little brats would not get the better of him today. He closed his eyes, leaning back, trying to hold the half back bend that Lilia wanted him to perfect before the end of spring. The bell above the front door tinkled, more kids arriving. He fell backwards, landing on his hands easily, hearing a joint pop and cursing slightly - he had never been able to warm up fully. 

Someone knocked on the door. He stayed in his back bend, bending his knees, trying to stretch his whole back. 

“Come in!” He called. Hopefully it was that one girl's mother there to actually pay on time for once. 

The door opened and Yuri nearly fell over.  It was not a parent.  It was not a student.  The person who had just entered the office was the fucking _ brunette from the train _ .

Yuri scrambled to his feet (easier said than done with his back bent at such an angle) and stared, open mouthed, at the other man.

“Wha- what are you doing here?”

The other man looked completely out of place.  His leather jacket and boots, comfortable and normal on a commuter train, were perfectly at odds with Lilia’s violet paint choice and the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows.  Yuri realized he’d never seen the man during the day before.  He still looked too good to be allowed, but it was odd, he was reminded of a vampire, the black just looked…  _ wrong. _

He obviously felt uncomfortable.  He was shifting nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet and fiddling with the strap of one of the finger less gloves he wore.  Yuri stared at them, he had never seen him wear those before… he liked them.  

“I- uh… I looked up where the studio was online,” he said almost apologetically, the deep gravel of his voice sending a shock of recognition through Yuri and he processed this new piece of information. 

“Oh?” his mind wasn’t working.  The brunette man who he hadn’t seen in  _ months  _ was  _ here _ in his  _ studio _ and  _ he didn’t even know his name! _

“I hope it’s okay I came I just-”

“It’s okay,” 

They were standing with the desk between them, not quite meeting each other’s eyes.  Yuri swallowed reflexively as he heard more students enter the studio.  

“Uh… why are you here?  I don’t mean to be rude,” he really didn’t, “but I have a class to teach in like five minutes and I’m kind of busy and if you came…” he trailed off not knowing what he was saying.

“Oh,” the man looked surprised but then his face cleared in understanding, “I guess I just… I wanted to let you know,” he looked up at Yuri, and he could see the brunette swallow against a lump in his throat, “I wanted to let you know that I’m taking a different train these days because I got a new job,”

_ Oh. _

“Congratulations,” the word came out stilted, automatically.

“It wasn’t because of… well… I didn’t want you think that’d I’d stopped because of you… well I guess it was because of you,” he looked away, playing with his under cut, “You made me actually think about where I was working and what I was doing with my life and all- all of that.  But it wasn’t because you pointed it out, it wasn’t- I wasn’t… mad at you,”

Yuri just stared at him.  Too much.  This was too much. Too much too quickly and without enough time to process. 

“Glad you got your head out of your ass,” he felt the sneer on his face and wanted to smack himself. No, no, no, that was not how he wanted to respond.  Here was this man being  _ real _ with him and for once in his life Yuri actually appreciated it and here he was making fun of it.

The man snorted through his nose, a characteristic Yuri hadn’t realized he’d missed.  “I guess, I just wanted you to know,” he said, meeting Yuri’s eyes.  There wasn’t much there.  The brown eyes were deep with understand, and open to him, he was being honest, as honest and earnest as he could be and Yuri felt the weight of it hit him like a ton of bricks.  He was being  _ trusted _ .

The man held his gaze for a long minute before turning towards the door, “Have a good one.”

Yuri didn’t have time to say anything before he’d left the office, the bell tinkling as he exited the studio.  Yuri could see him heading down the street.  Something was rising in him.  It was new and weird but it felt good and he wanted to act on it.  The trouble was, his legs didn’t seem to want to move.  He watched as the man got to the corner, crossing to the far side of the street.  He looked at the clock.  He had three minutes.

Yuri ran. 

Not bothering with shoes, not bothering with anything, just out of the office and out the door of the studio as quick as he could, down the street towards the other man.

“Wait!”

He no longer cared how stupid he looked, no longer cared about the fact that his feet would be stained black for a week from running on tarmac.  He barely looked both ways as he jogged across the street, landing lightly to a stop in front of the taller man who was standing on the corner, looking bewildered, but waiting.

“Hi,” he said, unnecessarily.  

The corner of the man’s mouth turned up, a sparkle in his eye, “Hey,”

“I’m Yuri,” he stuck out his hand, “Yuri Plisetsky,”

The other man was smiling for real now, he took his hand, shaking it, the roughness of his gloves not hiding the firm grip and the calluses beneath, “Otabek Altin,” he said.

Yuri nodded, their hands dropping, breathing deeply.  He didn’t have a lot of time and he had no idea what it was he was doing.  

“I… uh… I’m working right now but… uhh… do you think…” 

He looked at the man, pleading for help.  Come on.  If he had come here - traveled however far for however long to come to his studio  _ just _ to tell him - a stranger from the train - that he had switched jobs, then pigs were also flying and the sky was no longer blue.  There had to be another reason, a reason they kept being drawn to each other, a reason they couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other on the train, a  _ reason _ .  If he was wrong then he was making himself look like a fool to a complete stranger and if he was right…

The man was still smiling, his eyes lidded, and he blinked slowly at Yuri as he trailed off, no sign of help in sight.

“I guess… what I’m asking,” Yuri continued, determined to barrel through this until the guy got it through his thick head, “If you’re not doing anything… if you’d like to-”

“A drink sounds great,” The man - Otabek - was smirking at him.  Yuri breathed heavily through his nose, bristling, but didn’t say anything, “That’s what you wanted, right?” Otabek asked, still smirking, “Or did I mis-read something?” His voice was concerned but his eyes still twinkled, telling Yuri plainly that he knew perfectly well he had not misread  _ anything _ .

“I-” Yuri squinted at him, sizing him up, “Yeah, a drink… is fine,” he snapped it, his defenses up and the standard responses rearing their heads.

Otabek just smiled wider, raising his eyebrows at Yuri’s insolence. “When do you get off?” he asked, nodding towards the studio.

Shit. Yuri was late, he had to be.  He bounced on the balls of his feet, “Seven,” he said quickly, already taking steps back, “I’m late, I gotta run, you’ll be here?”

“Ye-ah,” the man, either not noticing Yuri’s hurry, or not caring, smiled again, letting the word flow across his tongue in a slow almost provocative manner.  

Yuri rolled his eyes at him, “Co-ol,” he said, mocking Otabek’s tone and making him grin wider.  Otabek nodded and Yuri turned, running back across the street, down the block, to the studio.  He looked back at the door. 

Otabek was still standing on the corner, his hands in his pockets, his hair swaying in the slight breeze, watching Yuri.  He felt himself flush, his heart racing with new found excitement.  He raised his hand at the brunette, who nodded back. Yuri couldn’t quite tell from the distance, but he was pretty sure the other man was smiling.  Yuri smiled himself, biting his lip, forcing himself to tear his eyes away.

He realized, as he entered the studio, already a little sweaty and with the soles of his feet black as coal that he didn’t care if the twins gave him shit, he didn’t care if Lilia told him off for not performing in his social media duties, he did not care about any of it, he was getting a drink the hot as fuck brunette at seven and that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! This is my first fic ever for this fandom and for this pairing!  
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://otayuri--asanoya.tumblr.com) if you so desire!


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